


Never Forget This Moment

by suicide_candy_candy



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking, Episode: s03e14 The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, Exhibitionism, First Time Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-28 00:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicide_candy_candy/pseuds/suicide_candy_candy
Summary: When Bruce tries to trick Jerome into not killing him in the Wayne manor (so he could have more time to come up with an escape plan) Jerome gets a different idea as to what he should do to Bruce.A/N: it's not exactly full on non-con or rape, I just felt I should put that warning on here just in case.





	1. Chapter 1

"I remember that night when you took over the benefit. You were quite the showman," Bruce said, not backing down from Jerome.

"Thank you. Always nice to be appreciated," Jerome sniggered.

"And you're just going to kill me here. It's kind of disappointing," Bruce scoffed.

"Ah! What do you mean?"

"After all the buildup, you coming back to life, turning off the lights in Gotham, killing me here just doesn't show a lot of..."

Jerome jumped onto the couch, kicking a pillow and waving his arms. "Flair? Style? Panache? Hmm? Go on boy, spit it out. I can take it."

"I'm Bruce Wayne."

"I'm aware."

"I am the ruling elite. My company is the machine that keeps the cogs of Gotham running."

"Wooow," Jerome drawled sarcastically.

"Killing me should mean something!"

"Hmm. I think you make a valid point. I don't want to kill you here," Jerome wiggled the knife at Bruce's throat, gripping the back of his neck.

At hearing this Bruce sighed internally. He'd have more time to plan an escape.

"But I will do something else with you here," In a single fluid motion, Jerome grabbed the smaller boy, shoving him toward the desk and throwing his torso down onto it.

Bruce grunted in surprise and tried to stand himself back up. Jerome tossed his knife onto the desk beside Bruce, instead using a hand to grip the back of Bruce's neck again and slam his face back onto the wood. With his other hand he smoothly groped the curve of the dark haired boy's ass. Bruce struggled momentarily and Alfred protested loudly at the events unfolding.

Jerome sighed. "Hold the butler down, and if he interrupts again," he grinned and connected his gaze with Alfred's, "cut his tongue out."

"Alfred just...look away," Bruce pleaded.

Alfred made it no easy task for Jerome's little gang to hold him down and keep him quiet. After one started shoving a knife at his face Bruce yelled for Alfred to stop. And he did. And he felt his soul sink into his belly and disappear.

"Yeesh, are all rich boys and their butlers this intimate? Don't tell me you two have –"

"No!" Bruce all but hissed, still fighting the weight on his neck.

"Ohohoho~ touchy are you?" Jerome bent forward, pushing his crotch into Bruce's ass.

"Y'know, these ugly pants do make your ass look delicious." He purred into Bruce's ear.

He allowed his hand to slide from holding his neck to grazing down his back. He slipped his fingers under the hem of his turtleneck. Bruce stayed still his chest beginning to heave with fear and...anticipation? Jerome gripped the smooth, milky skin of Bruce's hips and waist under his clothing. Bruce made his hands into fists and bit the inside of his lip. Jerome suddenly gripped his waist tightly and ground into his lower half abruptly.

Bruce stifled his gasp as his cheeks reddened. He felt the action shoot straight to his dick. He pushed back into Jerome without meaning to. He never could have fathomed that he'd find something enjoyable in being treated this way – ground into, dominated, violated by a man. He might have even enjoyed the struggle. He couldn't come to a conclusion on how he felt about others being in the room, however. Bringing his thoughts to that, he felt his stomach flip and he couldn't determine if it was fear or arousal.

Somewhere in his intellectual debating, Jerome had pushed the navy blue turtleneck off of his torso. He sighed and raked his fingernails down Bruce's back. It wasn't a gentle scratch it was full on clawing, digging for skin that would rise in harsh rosy red lines. Like lightning of candy red shooting down his skin.

"Brucie, I loathe your pants, so help me get em off of you," Jerome sang undoing Bruce's belt and fly.

Bruce complied, helping the redhead shimmy his pants and underwear down his lean muscular legs. Jerome pulled Bruce's pants off completely, kicking them aside. He kicked at Bruce's ankles, spreading his legs farther apart.

Jerome began running his fingers along the soft and untouched skin of his lower body. As his hand moved to the front of his body he halfheartedly wrapped it around Bruce's cock, surprised to find it radiating aroused heat and hardening in his touch. Jerome halted, letting out a breathy sigh and moistening his lips. The sensation of the hardening member shot through his hand, up his arm, into his body, reverberating into his stomach and adding fuel to his own flaming erection.

As the period of stillness progressed, Bruce found himself rocking into Jerome's hand. Jerome snapped out of it and grinned to himself before removing his hand from Bruce's erection. Bruce shuddered, saliva wet lips gliding over the surface of the desk, trying to find some contact. Jerome reached up, twisting his fingers into Bruce's dark curly hair. He gripped it harshly, yanking Bruce's face and upper body up. Bruce couldn't do anything to stop the moan from charging out of his lips in that moment.

Jerome traced his other hand up Bruce's shoulder, around his neck – gripping the delicate body part tightly, making Bruce give a strained groan as air barely trickled down his throat – and finally he pressed three fingers to his chin, pulling his mouth open.

"Was this your old man's office? Do you think he kept lube in his desk?" He growled, biting Bruce's lower lip with a little more force then necessary.

Bruce whimpered quietly as Jerome captured his lips fiercely and violently. It was nothing like the chaste kisses he and Selina shared. As forceful and dominating as the kiss was, Jerome also make it passionate and desperate. And he was desperate. He felt like he was sinking into the dark haired boy. He lapped his tongue into Bruce's mouth, feeling the foreign textures of another's teeth, inner cheeks, gums, hard palate, and  _fuck_  his tongue felt so good to him.

He pulled away, taking only a second to appreciate the dark red kiss-bruised lips he left Bruce with, the dusting of blush floating over his cheeks, his pupils blown to infinity while his eyes passed back and forth from nirvana to the physical moment between the two. Jerome pulled Bruce's cheeks apart and leaned down to spit onto his hole. He began prodding his middle finger into Bruce, relishing in the feeling of his body contracting and spasming around his finger.

Jerome threw open a drawer on the desk and dug through it with one hand for a bit before giving up on it and opening another. With a triumphant snigger, he lifted a plastic tube out of the second drawer. He flipped the cap open and squeezed some onto his fingers. He put the opening right up to Bruce's hole and squeezed some onto it as well.

Jerome inserted his lubricated finger into Bruce one at a time. He continued pressing and twisting and stretching and thrusting into him. He let out a shuddering breath at the sight of Bruce shaking nervously below him. Upon hearing Bruce let out a particularly sensual whine, he chuckled and repeatedly dug his finger tips into him at just that angle. Bruce gasped and moaned as he bit down on his own wrist to quiet himself. 

"Brucie, suck me off a bit before we get to the real fun," Jerome panted, his fingers falling gently out of Bruce.

He unfastened his pants as Bruce stood up. They stared each other down, Bruce's body fully exposed while Jerome had only just tugged his pants down enough to pull out his dick. In a fluid collapse, Bruce sank to his knees, the fronts of his ankles pressed flat against the floor. Jerome gingerly rested his palm on Bruce's burning cheek.

Bruce clasped his fingers around the base of his length taking the silky head into his mouth – the whole time he refused to break eye contact, as if it was a competition. Bruce pushed more of his cock into his mouth, the heat an wet of his mouth enveloping Jerome in bliss. Bruce scrapped his teeth momentarily on the flesh of his erection.

"Uh! Fuck yeah," Jerome whined, grabbing two fists of Bruce's hair and twisting harshly.

Bruce moaned around his cock as the burning feeling at the roots of his hair resonated through his body. Bruce bobbed his head slowly, swirling his tongue around the foreign organ in his mouth. He choked softly as the head pressed into his throat, gagging only a few times. Jerome groaned leaning his head back as Bruce's throat convulsed around him ever so slightly.

Jerome pushed Bruce off of his cock, pulling him up by his hair and capturing him in a feverish kiss. He pushed Bruce back onto the desk so that he lay on his back. He wrapped a hand around Bruce's neck again, not placing enough force to cut of air but rather applying dominate pressure.

He traced his finger up Bruce's torso. Bruce arched and squirmed, letting out soft gasps and pleads only Jerome could hear or understand. As Jerome traced more indecipherable patterns on him, Bruce let his head fall back completely, eyes lidded, mind in a whole other world.

Jerome let his hand join the other on Bruce's neck. He stared possessively into his eyes and contracted the muscles in his forearms and fingers. Cutting air away from his Bruce. Bruce's mouth opened and closed slightly. He looked almost like a fish out of water. He slung his long legs around Jerome's hips, tightly locking his ankles together in an attempt to pull them closer. Tears accumulated in the corners of his eyes and trickled down his temples. His face was growing  into a slightly unattractive shade of red so Jerome let go refusing to give him enough time to take a breath.

He kissed him.

Because _he_ was the only air Bruce needed.

The kiss broke abruptly and Bruce gasped for air before letting out an aftershock of a moan. Jerome leaned back, positioning Bruce's legs above his shoulders and guiding his cock to Bruce's entrance. Bruce touched the sore spot of his neck, where the skin was likely fading into a cherry hue.

Jerome slowly pushed into Bruce's body letting each inch, each _particle_ of his cock slide roughly past the tight ring of Bruce's asshole. When his entire cock was invested in Bruce's ass he stopped, holding them in that position. Bruce's body twitched around him, tightening and loosening, trying to decide if the intrusions was a threat or not. Jerome rocked his hips gently, claiming Bruce's gaze entrancingly.

As his body relaxed and loosened as much as he could, Jerome tugged himself just a little before thrusting back in. Bruce let out a loud sound of pain and bliss. Jerome leaned forward, keeping his legs over his shoulders, folding him so that their chests almost touched. He gazed down at the black haired boy, their noses only centimeters apart.

He pulled out and began fucking into Bruce as forcefully as he physically could. Bruce grabbed at Jerome's shoulders and arms. His head fell back off the desk this time, leaving his neck completely exposed.

He moaned like a fucking bitch. But he was Jerome's fucking bitch. And he loved his bitch.

He leaned down and bit into Bruce's neck. He could taste the sweat and arousal and musk. But biting him wasn't enough. He needed to fucking choke him. Make him cling to him for life. Because he fucking owned him. He threw Bruce's legs off of his shoulders to give him more free use of his arms.

"I fucking own you, Brucie," he hissed so quietly that only Bruce could hear and wrapped his hands around his throat again.

At the sudden silence Alfred look over out of concern. He quickly shut his eyes painfully at seeing Bruce's face contorting in pleasure as the mass murderer fucked him into a new era.

Jerome released Bruce from his suffocating grip and rested his forearms on each side of his head. Bruce gasped and moaned.

"Look at me," he commanded – and Bruce looked with teary eyes.

"I. Fucking. Own. You." He matched his words to four particularly violent thrusts.

Bruce continued with his loud moaning and violent shivering as Jerome pounded him with conviction. He pulled out abruptly, yanking Bruce up and bending him over so his chest was again flush against the desk. He realigned himself quickly and began at the same pace he left off at. He gripped Bruce's hips painfully, digging his fingers in on purpose.

Bruce's cock hit the edge of the desk giving him cause to grip the other edge tightly.

Jerome leaned down and gently pulled Bruce's hair so his head raised up just slightly. Bruce whined.

"Brucie. I want you to remember what I'm doing to you. Forever. You'll never have sex with someone without thinking of the way I've made you feel. Without actually _feeling_ me there. You are never going to forget this moment." Jerome moaned into Bruce's ear.

He grabbed Bruce's cock and began rubbing it gracelessly as he felt his own release rising. As he felt himself beginning to topple into orgasm, Bruce came with a drawn out moan and a full body shudder before ejaculating harder than he ever had when just masturbating. As Bruce's body pulsed, Jerome moaned almost animalistically and came while thrusting desperately into Bruce.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce felt like he'd been dragged into an ornate nightmare. Jerome's circus of psychopaths was every bit as horrifying as he'd imagined. He searched in vain to find any way to escape when the bag was yanked from his head. No surprise to him, there was no way to make it out alive. Jerome chuckled at him – at the lost and beaten expression on his face, he assumed. He tossed his hat on and slipped his hand onto the small of Bruce's back.

"Well, we're off to a good start. What do you say, Brucie? Wanna have some more fun?"

He sighed to himself as the place Jerome touched him stung with uncertainty. He began steering him to a booth to be painted. His body protested in soreness. He could feel Jerome's cum trickling down his thigh uncomfortably.

While he was painted by someone in a red wig, he could feel the sticky thick liquid meshing together the fabric of his clothes to his skin. His mind kept flickering to that feeling, unable to concentrate on anything else for very long. Although he was clothed and 100% decent, he felt completely naked. He felt like everyone could see his body. Like everyone could see what he'd done.

But he knew that they couldn't. No one could tell that he'd, not too long ago, been fucked over a desk by Jerome, or that he'd liked it, or that he was upset he'd never be able to do it again. He pushed the embarrassing feeling of being exposed to the back of his mind just as the man in the awful red wig finished his handy work.

He felt Jerome creep forward.

"Gotta be honest, Brucie, you don't make the world's funniest clown," he flicked his knife out, "buuuut we can fix that."

Bruce's blood scalded his veins as his blood pressure shot up. Jerome's fingers slipped into his hair again, tightening and holding him steady. He brought the knife up to his throat, staring at his face through the mirror. Bruce gasped, gripping the chair's arms. Jerome jabbed the knife into the man beside them in one fluid motion. He groaned, attempting not to double over at the impact.

Bruce could do nothing but watch the scene before him in horror. The man whimpered in pain.

"Ah, shut up you big baby," Jerome barked, twisting the knife and yanking it out.

Blood coated his fingers. The same fingers that Bruce had let touch him earlier. Jerome pressed his bloodied finger to Bruce's lips muttering something that was completely lost to Bruce's comprehension as disgust and arousal mixed in his body. The blood of another made him sick to his stomach, but Jerome's touch lingered in the pit of his stomach.

Jerome chuckled, pulling Bruce out of the chair. They began strolling through the disaster.

"Is there a plan for all this madness?" Bruce inquired.

"These people don't want a plan, they want an excuse," Jerome clarified as the stopped walking. "A mother who dreams of strangling her child. Husband who wants to stab his wife. All they want is someone to tell them... 'Do it.' Kill them. It doesn't matter. It doesn't. Oh! I love this game. Oh please ~ " Jerome bounced off to a water dunking stall.

Bruce struggled briefly with the man who held him in place for Jerome.

"You won't get away with it."

"Already did. Now, shush. Need to concentrate."

"A few dozen brainwashed maniacs can't keep the city hostage forever."

"Well, duh."

"So what's the point?" Bruce interrupted Jerome's throw.

" _Cheeky_ _little_ __bastard__ _ _.__ The point, is that these people out here looting, robbing, killing... They're the one's who wash your car or pour your coffee or take out the trash. And what happened the moment the lights went out? They showed their true faces."

"There are good people in Gotham," Bruce protested, grabbing Jerome by the shirt.

Jerome's face twitched in a smile before he broke out in a cackle. He turned to throw the ball, pulling out of Bruce's faltering grip. He leapt forward, pushing Jerome.

"Foul! He pushed me, you saw that right?!"

"You wanna kill someone, let's get one with it! Come on!"

"I really thought that after what happened at your place, you'd be more entertaining." Jerome slammed the button, thrusting the man into the piranha infested tub.

Bruce screamed and tried to charge at Jerome, but was held back again. Jerome removed his hat and began stapling the corner of his face back to his skull. He sighed as the staple went through the layers of skin.

"Did that hurt?" Bruce mocked.

"Not much. You try."

Jerome snatched Bruce's arm, pressing the mouth of the stapler to his wrist. Bruce closed his eyes.

"Open em," Jerome hissed.

Bruce parted them into crescents. Jerome ferociously stared into his eyes, gripping his arm painfully. The stapler clicked, sending the connected prongs of metal into Bruce arm. His throat tightened with the punctures. Jerome moved the stapler up his forearm, stepping closer to his as he did. Bruce's eyes opened more, staring up into Jerome's gaze defiantly.

Bruce buckled into Jerome's personal space upon the third staple. He protested under his breath in a whine. Jerome ceased his work with his forearm and captured his jaw, staring into the tear-glossed eyes.

"Did that hurt, babe?"

"Stop," Bruce whispered.

"All right. Onto the main event then."

Bruce felt time go by in choppy bits and pieces. He could see no escape. Jerome's speech to the crowd, as well as the crowd itself, seemed muddled and distorted. After Jerome loaded the cannon he got up next to Bruce.

"I'm sorry if you thought I'd spare you. I enjoyed you. I did think about just letting you live...with me..forever. Buuuut I'd probably still feel that nagging urge to kill you. So sorry."

Jerome hopped down, prancing toward the cannon. Bruce began fumbling with the staples in his arm.

***

Bruce ducked into the house of mirrors after spotting Jerome looking around next to some other booth. He started wiping off the shitty white and black eye makeup with his sleeves. Bruce anticipated being followed by Jerome into the building. What he didn't anticipate was that while he was rubbing at the face paint, Jerome tackled him from behind. He wrapped his arms around Bruce's waist, holding him in place flush against his own body while Bruce kicked and elbowed at him.

"Listen, what if I say I knew you'd make it out of that situation?"

"Bullshit!"

"Meh, you're right. It was worth a shot though. How about one more time for the road, eh?" Jerome whispered into Bruce's ear.

Bruce had to admit that the thought of having sex with the redhead again did sound somewhat delightful.

"We don't have a lot of time," Bruce pointed out, turning over in Jerome's grip.

"I knoooow, that shitty butler of yours is here."

"I guess we'd better get to work then. Before he finds me."

Jerome smiled, pushing Bruce back down so that he was on his stomach. He pulled Bruce's pants off and pushed them aside. He prodded at his cum from earlier still leaking out of Bruce.

"Do you think I could just," he shoved two fingers into Bruce, "hop back in it?"

"Just do it," Bruce demanded, trying not to look at any of the mirrors.

"Jeez, you turned into a bossy bottom."

Jerome pulled his fingers out, briefly wiping them off on one of Bruce's ass cheeks. Bruce reached underneath himself, rubbing his slowly growing erection. Jerome watched him intensely as he stroked himself. He straddled Bruce's thighs and aligned himself. He slowly leaned forward, pushing into the tight hole. He rocked back and forth gently as Bruce gasped below him. He held Bruce's waist down and began thrusting into his body.

Bruce shuddered, his body protesting momentarily before Jerome rubbed that spot inside of him _so_ __good__ during one of his messy thrusts. Bruce let go of his own dick, bringing his arm up next to his face. He felt his warm dick press onto the cold ground and his body tightened up in growing arousal. Jerome pressed his hips into Bruce's so hard that his dick pressed into the cold floor even more. He covered his face with his clothes forearms and moaned quietly.

Jerome pulled out, flipping Bruce over onto his back before entering him again.

"I didn't quite get that Brucie, mind repeating it?"

He snapped his hips forward, licking his lips. Bruce let out a satisfied sound again. Jerome leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Bruce's head. The sensation of Jerome sliding in and out of him burned him from his entrance to his very core. The heated gasps and moans from the both of them echoed off of the mirrors. Bruce grabbed one of Jerome's hands and pulled it toward his neck. He figured if it felt good earlier, it'd feel fantastic again.

Jerome smiled knowingly, resting his palm on Bruce's windpipe. He wrapped his thumb and fingers around the sides of his throat. He wasn't squeezing yet, but rather asserting his control over him in that moment. When Bruce _smiled_ Jerome felt a shock electrify him. He put his weight sparingly onto Bruce's neck, squeezing his fingers around him as well. Bruce knit his eyebrows and let his mouth hang open in a silent moan. His cock twitched and his hips ground back into Jerome's. He squeezed Jerome's wrist and he let his hand loosen around him. He reached up to wrap his fingers around the cloth of Jerome's shirt, pulling him down into a kiss.

Jerome nibbled on Bruce's bottom lip before invading his mouth with his tongue. It was open-mouthed and sloppy as fuck, they aimlessly rubbed their tongues together. Jerome wrapped his arms around Bruce's shoulders, resting his weight on his forearms and he continued to fuck him with as little rhythm as he was kissing him. Bruce latched his arms around Jerome's torso and opened his legs more.

Jerome moved from his mouth to his jaw, gently biting the flesh covered bone, and then to his neck. He pressed his open lips directly of the heated skin covering his vein. He felt the hasty pulsing and the ragged breaths that Bruce pulled in before he moaned. He bit his skin violently, definitely bruising the pattern of his teeth into Bruce's delicate pale neck.

Jerome moved his arms again, grabbing Bruce by the fabric of his shirt and tugging him up. Jerome fell onto his back, pulling Bruce onto him so that he now straddled his hips. Bruce fell still for a moment, he felt embarrassed at being in such an exposing position.

Bruce rocked his hips experimentally, feeling Jerome's cock rub inside of him. He braced himself with one hand on Jerome's stomach and continued rocking back and forth, his other hand jerking himself off. Jerome rested one arm behind his head and held Bruce's wrist with his free hand. As Bruce's humping became more concise, Jerome started thrusting up gently to meet with him.

Bruce leaned down and they pressed their lips together again, wet and unorganized. Jerome grabbed Bruce's hips and began thrusting up into him with overwhelming force. Bruce's hand flew like lightning, feeling a knot begin to tie itself inside of him.

"Don't fucking stop," Bruce gasped through their kiss.

"Wouldn't dream of it, babe."

Jerome felt Bruce begin to softly pulse around him and a drastic speed. The tightness pulled at his cock and he felt euphoria rush over his muscles and he spurted inside of Bruce for the second time that day. The hot liquid coating his insides tied the knot all together, Bruce balls tightened and he fell forward a little. Jerome gripped his hips tighter, his finger tips digging unforgivingly into him. He came gasping Jerome's name quietly into his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it lived up to the first chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> So~ this was the first decently written fan fic I've ever successfully completed and posted. Yaaay me.


End file.
